


Stolen Souls

by lupinmoons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Post-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin is Bad at Feelings, Sirius Black Has PTSD, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Black is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupinmoons/pseuds/lupinmoons
Summary: Two broken young old men, one who's returned from something beyond your worst nightmares, and the other who's life is full of never ending horrors. Sirius Black is back from Azkaban a changed man, there's no sign of the fiery, determined, defiant young man he had once been. Remus Lupin has changed too, he's a broken man with a much too old soul for one so young. They're reunited, yes, but can they figure out how the hell to help each other recover?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 6





	Stolen Souls

**Author's Note:**

> A random burst of Wolfstar angst hit me straight in the face at 2 a.m. so that’s what prompted this ig?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some sensitive content near the end! So if you don’t like that you can just skip it.
> 
> Also, Sirius has some pretty heavy thoughts here, so again, if you’re sensitive to that you can skip :)

_I took a little journey to the unknown_

_And I've come back changed I can feel it in my bones_

_I fucked with forces that our eyes can't see_

_Now the darkness got a hold on me_

_Oh, the darkness got a hold on me_

Grimmauld Place was silent, there wasn’t even a creak of a loose floorboard or drafty window letting a cold breeze in. It was silent, cold, dark; lifelesss, if you want to go that far. There was one man though, one numb man sitting at the window, thin shoulders hunched against a nonexistent evil. 

Life was meaningless to Sirius Black. Sure, he had broken out of the most secure prison is all of the British Wizarding World, but that didn’t mean anything. There wasn’t anybody to make his pathetic excuse of a life worth anything anyway; his best friend was dead, so was his brother, and his former lover didn’t seem to feel anything anymore.   
  
Well, there was his godson. But it wasn’t like Sirius got to see him anyway, being a convicted criminal all and all that bullshit. He didn’t want to think about that right now though; he couldn’t exactly help it, the thoughts pressed on, constantly lurking and ready to attack at the right moment. Dark thoughts of cold wind and creeping shadows, the feeling of hope slipping away before you could catch it. Reminders of the stone walls that held so many horrors.

Yes, yes, the thoughts were always there. _Always._ What a word. Such a simple word with so many different meanings. A soft sign escaped his mouth, the faintest puff of air appearing in front of his face. Maybe he should turn the heat up...

_No._

Well, there was The Voice again. It had been there since Sirius jumped off that cliff and into the salty water of the North Sea, since he had escaped Azkaban. Sirius wasn’t sure if it was his own mind speaking to him, or if it was something completely different. He wasn’t sure of much these days.   
  
It was raining outside, the sky a dark, moody gray. It matched his mood. Sirius liked the rain, he always had. There was an odd sort of beauty in the cycle of it, how it never changed. Maybe it was longing that he felt, longing for a life without change. A life that was happy and warm, a life that was worth living. Sirius had lost the chance to have that long ago.

He had tried to keep strong in Azkaban, he had tried to hold onto hope. But Azkaban had pulled it away faster then Sirius could keep his grip, after that, there was nothing; just endless hours passing by over and over again.   
  
What had he escaped for again? Sirius couldn’t remember. He didn’t “remember” a lot anymore.

“Oh, what a fucking pathetic person you are, Sirius Black.” He said, chuckling humorlessly, then doubled over, dissolving into hacking coughs.   
  
When he caught his breath again, Sirius sat up and turned his gaze back to the window. The rain had eased up a bit, and was now more of a light drizzle that looked somewhat more depressing then before, if that was possible.

The darkness reminded him of the dementors, the rolling clouds had the same hopeless feeling. Sirius still vividly remembered the feeling of nearly getting kissed, his entire body had been paralyzed, the sensation of ice crawling across his skin and flowing through his blood.

Sirius pushed the thoughts from his mind, well, as best he could. Pushed them far away for them to be a dull murmur in the back of his mind. The rain started to pick up again, droplets hitting the window with small thuds, lightning flashing brightly through the clouds, followed by a clap of thunder that rolled across the sky.

Sirius slowly stood up, wincing at the pain in his back from sitting for so long. He didn’t bother to put the chair back, he knew he would be back in it again later. His bones creaked and cracked painfully and he had to pause and catch his breath again before walking out of the dark living room.   
  
Sirius half-walked, half-limped over to the hallway leading to the stairs. It was even darker here, there were no lanterns lit and the shadows creeped in even more then usual. Sirius’s shoulders were shivering, he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the childhood trauma.

Sirius had to hold back a grimace as he passed the house elf heads mounted on the wall. He hoped the curtains to his mother’s portrait were closed, the last thing he needed was the bloody woman screaming “blood traitor” in his ear over and over. Sirius warily looked towards the portrait, coiled tight like a spring.

The curtains were closed.

Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and silently slipped past. He crept up the stairs, memories of his childhood trying to seep into his mind. Sirius swallowed, and his chest grew tighter. 

_There was the stair that he had protected Regulus on._

No. Don’t think about that.

_There’s where Mother made you cut your palms three times for talking to three blood traitors._

It’s in the past now.

_Look, that’s were Regulus begged you to stay._

Sirius inhaled sharply, his chest constricted painfully and a bitter chill flowed from his head to his feet. Right outside Sirius’s bedroom. He remembered the conversation all too clearly.

_”Sirius, please, you can’t go!”_

_”Well I am. You’re all too welcome to come with me.”_

_”You know I can’t...”_

_”Why not? Are you scared?”_

_”No!”_

_”Then come with me.”_

_”Please don’t make this difficult —“_

_“No. You listen here, Regulus. Your parents have decided to show what they really think. I’m done with it and I’m leaving. You can’t stop me. Now, I will offer one for time. Come with me.”_

_”Sirius....”_

_”No. I see where your loyalties lie. Fine. Alright. Great. Thank you for answering. Goodbye, brother.”_

And with that he had left.

Sirius exhaled heavily and leaned into the wall, resting his head against it. He stayed that way for several minutes, eyes closed, trying to even out his breathing. The thunderstorm was still rumbling loudly outside, and the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the dim hallway. 

Sirius opened his eyes and took a deep breath one more time. He placed his hand on the doorknob of his bedroom and pushed the door open, stepping inside. Gryffindor colors were everywhere, strewn across wardrobes and the walls. Sirius had forgotten how much he had really put up. There was an old broomstick resting in the corner of the room. The wood looked cracked and dry, most likely not having been tended too for nearly twenty years.

Sirius stepped further in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He walked along the walls, hand running gently over the Gryffindor banners. Sirius studied the motorcycle pictures closely, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. 

There wasn’t much decoration on the wall to the left side of his bed, except for another banner and a photo that Sirius couldn’t make out. As he drew closer, the photo stuck to his wall became clear.

The Marauders. 

Sirius reeled back, emotion erupting violently in him. In the photo, Remus and James were in the back, James had his arm slung awkwardly over Remus’s shoulders, his other hand resting on -

Peter’s shoulder.

Hot rage shot through his blood and Sirius lunged at the photo, ripping it off the wall. He violently ripped the shape of Peter out of it and threw it to the ground, hands trembling. Sirius slowly raised the photo back up to study it. He had been kneeling next to Peter, in front of Remus. 

Remus’s hand had been on his shoulder. A hard lump grew in his throat and Sirius set the picture down and looked away. He couldn’t bear it. They had been _happy_. Content. Protected.

Sirius sunk down, laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

_Where had everything gone wrong?_

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter should hopefully be up in the next couple days x
> 
> Song at the beginning is Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron


End file.
